


Sometimes, You Just Catch Criminals...

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of Shield - AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Philinda AU Challenge on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the right light, undercover work can be fun...and sometimes it can even be surprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Philinda AU Challenge on Tumblr. Such a fun challenge- I'm thinking I might continue this one. In fact, it's pretty much begging me to. I hope it's enjoyable!

He could smell the smoke first; acrid and thick as he rounded the corner, the byproduct of the nearby diner and its as-advertised 'meanest chili burger this side of the five burroughs'. He'd never liked chili, hadn't eaten meat in thirty years- ever since his mother had broken one of her front teeth on a rib at Bucky's Barbeque Joint in Albuquerque. He'd spent hours in the waiting room reading Captain America comic books and listening to the sound of groans as the dentist had painstakingly repaired the damage, the result of which had been his mother refusing to ever purchase meat again.

So the scent of hamburgers and spicy chili did nothing for him, and as he strode deeper into the alley bathed in shadows, Phil Coulson wondered if other men before him found themselves in the diner afterward, staving off another kind of hunger.

“You're late. I didn't think you'd make it.” She was leaning against the brick wall of another business, one he couldn't identify from the chipped, stenciled letters on a thick metal door. And she was beautiful, hair the color of mahogany framing a face he'd wanted to imagine but hadn't dared to try for the fear of disappointment. Brown eyes, red lips, skin so pale and smooth he thought she had to be fragile somehow, and wondered if he pressed her up against those harsh bricks would she shatter against them when she screamed his name. “I need to keep things under the radar- I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not.” So many people he met with had similar requirements and he'd always respected them, enjoying the anonymity as much as he suspected they did. The chance to escape, to be in someone else's skin and allow his hands to cover them in a way no one ever had. “It's not uncommon to be nervous, Melinda. Everyone has their first time, and I promise we can take it as slowly as you need.”

She inhaled softly and he could smell mint on her breath, recognized the strong scent of Altoids and wondered if she kept the familiar tin in her purse with the red lipstick she was wearing. Did she wear the red lipstick for her husband or lover, or did she buy it at the drugstore on her way to meet him in the shady alley? He leaned in, ran his tongue over those red lips, worked it gently between the perfect white teeth, and her sigh blended in to the distant sounds of the city.

“We can talk about payment afterward.” He could feel her shiver as he whispered in her ear, one hand fumbling for the hem of her skirt and working his way beneath it as the other worked at his pants, while pressing her up against the wall and the rough, textured brick. “But for now, we'll enjoy ourselves.”

“I'm looking forward to it.” Much to his surprise she pulled away, reached down to smooth her skirt as the door beside them burst open and a duo of suits rushed out, grasping his arms and pulling them roughly behind him. “Phillip Coulson, you're under arrest for solicitation.”

She hadn't seemed like a cop- the way the skin of her thigh had risen with goosebumps as he'd touched it with his fingertips, the way she'd moaned as he'd pressed his lips against hers. An undercover cop wasn't someone he'd imagined himself drawn to, hadn't ever thought he'd be as easily fooled as he'd been with her, and even as the taller suit began to read his rights Coulson stared into her eyes and wondered if she'd been the slightest bit intrigued by his approach.

“I'm sorry we never had our chance,” He said as they led him away, the click of her heels following him to the car that was now parked at the entrance to the alley, bathed in the smoke of the diner. “It would have been fun.”

“Maybe,” May smiled, red lips brighter in the city lights, and as he was pushed carefully into the back of a cruiser their eyes met. He couldn't be sure, but hers seemed to sparkle with what he suspected was amusement. “But sometimes we don't all get to have the kind of fun we want. Sometimes, you just have to catch criminals. And that's what I do.”

\----

“I hate undercover.” She could remember the first time she'd ever gone on an op- pretending she was someone else never felt right, and wearing the perky nurses uniform while gyrating on a stripper pole had _certainly_ not been the type of identity she'd coveted. She liked pajamas and hot chocolate, comfortable evenings pretending to be happy while crying into a tub of Starbucks Java Chip ice cream and watching _Sleepless in Seattle_ for the eighteenth- or nineteenth- time. But Melinda May had never shirked at a challenge, and when Captain Fitz had assigned her to the role of poor unhappy housewife to draw in the male prostitutes making such a healthy living on the internet she'd pulled on the heels and made her way into the depths.

“But you do it so well, Detective. And I must say- those heels are _lovely_.”

“Stick to science, Simmons.” Jemma Simmons was adorably British- she'd watched _Bridget Jones_ enough to swoon over the accents and secretly loved to listen to the sweet scientist babble whenever she had cause to visit the bullpen. But the poor girl knew nothing of undercover work, and as May massaged her weary feet she wondered what life event would finally wipe the enthusiasm from her youthful face. A relationship with Captain Fitz had yet to expose her to anything beyond speeding tickets and bureaucratic nonsense, and May had watched them share a laugh over lunches in his office with the sick feeling that this would be the relationship of his which would last longer than any prior. Simmons could be the 'one', and Fitz could be the reason she'd learn how dark the world really was.

But the day was over and she'd gotten her collar, so there was nothing more to think about than what she'd pick up for dinner on the way home, and whether or not the cat needed his litter box changed before she settled down with the rest of her Rocky Road and watched reruns of _Night Court_ before she fell asleep. It was a life she'd enjoyed for most of her career and she intended to continue enjoying it for as long as possible.

“May.”

“Coulson.” Her eyes moved from her blotchy red feet to the pair of loafers in her line of sight and up to the face of the man who had pressed her so intensely against a brick wall only hours before. She thought she could still taste the tang of his breath, the lingering flavor of coffee and cinnamon. “You're out on bail?”

“My buddy took care of it. Wouldn't let me spend the night here. You look beat, but I suppose luring men into dark alleys can wear you out pretty quickly. I'm sure I wasn't your first meeting tonight.”

“Actually, you were my only. I just opened that e-mail account yesterday- you just happened to be the first lucky guy to answer me.”

“I'm a little new at the business. Had a friend get me into it, so I guess I should warn him now, huh?” He shifted and placed his hands in the pockets of a battered leather jacket, a smile playing over his lips as he watched her slip her feet into equally battered black leather ankle boots. “Your footwear doesn't seem any more comfortable than those heels you were wearing.”

“Shouldn't you be on your way, Coulson? Trying to make friends with me isn't going to help your case.”

“I was waiting for my ride, but it seems she found me. Skye.” He was a father, she realized with some surprise, as a young woman in blue plaid bounded through the bullpen with a scorned expression, wrapping her arms securely around his waist. Coulson's eyes met hers over the wealth of brown curls and May felt the faint tingle in her belly that had her suddenly rethinking _Night Court_ and considering _Pirates_ , the DVD she kept hidden in a box under the bed. _He'd look_ _ **fantastic**_ _in black leather pants_. “Skye, let me introduce Detective May. She's-”

“The cop who arrested my dad. Cool.” She hadn't expected _that_ , certainly, and bit back a smirk as the girl turned her gaze to Coulson and his apparent lack of shame. “Seriously, Trip called me and told me you were arrested for _what_? How did you let him talk you into that, anyway?”

“Ix-nay on the ip-Tray, sweetheart. Let's go. Good night, May.” She forced herself to look at reports scattered over the surface of her desk, waited until the ding of the elevator and the sound of their voices were cut off by the closing doors. The ambient sounds of the precinct blended together like bees in a hive, and as she stared at the sea of papers May considered what he'd said. _I'm a little new at the business. Had a friend get me into it._ And Skye. _Trip told me you were arrested._

“Officer Hand.” _Pirates_ could wait, she thought, inspiration fueling her to pull up a web search. “I need you to look for any recent cases in solicitation involving anyone with the nickname 'Trip'. Get me the results as quickly as you can.”

“Of course, Detective.” _We're going to keep you off the streets, Phil Coulson. If not for yourself then for that daughter of yours_.

And somewhere in the back of her mind May knew it was just a little bit for herself, as well, though she'd have gone back into a dark alley in ten inch heels before she'd ever admit it.


	2. Out on the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend lends Melinda May just a bit of drunken perspective...

“Come on. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that just a _little_ bit.” She'd been dragged- kicking and screaming in the back of her mind while dreams of pornography and Ben  & Jerry slipped into the distance- to drinks at The Place, and hours later May found herself staring absently into a Long Island Iced Tea while Maria Hill berated her for what she'd termed 'A missed opportunity'. “Seriously, May. You get _paid_ to lure unsuspecting men- _sex crazed unsuspecting men_ \- into dark alleys to make out and perform sex acts that would make my grandmother blush, and you don't find it even the least bit fun?”

“It's work, Maria. Work. I get paid to strap on heels and pretend I'm some bored little housewife to trap prostitutes. And they're not exactly sex crazed. It's work for them, too.” She sipped on her drink and made a face. _I'd forgotten how strong these were. “_ We don't have sex, either. We don't even come _close_ to sex. So if Phil Coulson was planning any sort of unspeakable _anything_...it wasn't happening with me.”

“Phil Coulson. Don't ask me why, but it sounds like a cover. It's so drab...I can't imagine anyone would use that as their actual name on a-” The sentence drew to a close as Maria peered over her own drink, blinked rapidly as May smiled into her own. “You're kidding. He _did_?”

“I think he thought it would draw women in if he sounded like someone's accountant. The man wore a suit and tie in his profile picture.” She could remember clicking rapidly on her mouse, scrolling through photos and sending e-mails to whoever had caught her eye. Coulson hadn't been the first but he _had_ been the last...the tame, unimposing figure in his grey suit, blue eyes peering out from the screen among countless men in t-shirts and tight jeans. “Maybe in his mind it sounded like something women would go for.”

“Because he thinks women fantasize about banging their accountants.” She watched Hill's eyes glaze over for a moment, as her friend lapsed into a surprisingly long moment of silence. “Oh. Wait, okay. I can see it.”

“Of course you can. You look at Nick and see a walking sex object, and _he's_ just the medical examiner.” May had never deemed to judge Hill and her driving need to see the imposing figure of Nick Fury shirtless, but she'd certainly sat through countless evenings listening to talk of 'wielding scalpels' and 'taut, quivering flesh'- enough to know Hill had a need she wanted Fury to fulfill. “Honestly, you make watching him do autopsies sound like an orgy.”

“Maybe. But you _can't_ tell me you weren't turned on by Coulson. When you got him in that alley and he had his hand up your skirt-” She grinned as May quirked an eyebrow, downed another inch of her own drink. “I read your report. He was about to get down and dirty, and I think that if you hadn't been there to collar him you would have let him do it.”

“Well, that's pretty irrelevant now. We arrested him and he's out on bail. I won't be seeing him again.” She slipped off her stool and drew her arms into a battered leather jacket, tossing crisp bills on the table. “And before you get any brilliant ideas, I don't want to see you anywhere near the bullpen tomorrow. Just because you set Hand and Hartley up doesn't mean she owes you any favors, and I'd rather not have to cite my officer for getting you a perp's home address.”

“It's not like I'm going to see him.” At a glance from May, Hill raised her hands in defeat. “Okay. I would have sent him flowers. I know you like me to stay out of your personal life, so I will- but really, Melinda, he sounds like a guy who just needed a break. And _you_ could use a night in the sack, so maybe he'd be able to put those new skills of his to good use.”

“For all I know, I was his first. Good night, Maria.” The cold bit into her skin as May stepped out of the bar, keys jingling as she withdrew them from the pocket of her coat and unlocked her car. Maria was right- she hadn't had a good night in bed since divorcing Lance, and the hours spent with dvd's and her trusty vibrator could only fulfill so much. But Phil Coulson wasn't the warm body to be bringing home- she couldn't see herself between the sheets with a man who had made it his new profession- and she wasn't willing to risk her career over a night of pleasure.

No matter what possibilities his talents could promise her.


	3. Onions and Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to have pizza is with company, and sometimes the best kind is unexpected.

The streetlights cast a warm glow over the world as May walked home, hearing the click of her heels on the sidewalk blending in with the sounds of her city at night. Someone had once told her that the city never slept but she'd always imagined it did- it just snored in its own way, the clatter of rats in trash cans and drunken, stumbling drifters filling the streets with noise. The night patrols were the breathing strip- quieting what they could until the dawn, when the voices woke and the sun rose above the skyline.

She'd chosen her apartment for its safety and security, the pretty little building tucked between a law office and a friendly bookstore that boasted a large stone Buddha whose serene expression watched over her when she'd come home from a shift in the dark. He watched her now when she approached her door and became aware of the figure on the steps beside him, her fingers curling slightly around the gun on her hip.

“All right, hands in the air and-” The grip relaxed as the figure moved, hands raised in compliance and a sheepish grin on his face when he stepped out of the shadows. “Coulson. What are you doing here?”

“We share the same pizza delivery guy.” He gestured at a stack of boxes on the step beside him, a paper bag placed neatly on top. “And taste in beer, from what he tells me. I was grabbing a few slices for myself and Skye when I saw your order- thought I'd save Pablo the trouble of bringing it all the way across town. Did you know you're the only one who orders from there at this hour?”

“No. But I also didn't know that Pablo couldn't be trusted.” May had always had a soft spot for the pimply faced Pablo Jimenez, thick rimmed glasses and goofy grin that would light him up whenever she'd wave. He had a crush on her, she thought, and she'd tip him enough each time that one day she imagined he would spend it all on magazines he wasn't quite legal enough to buy yet. “I should tip him less.”

“Don't blame him- what I did could be considered bribery and coercion. So you might have to arrest me, Detective May.”

“Don't tempt me.” She heard her stomach grumble, nearly moaned as the idea of melted cheese crept into her thoughts. Placing the order on the way home had given her enough time to think about what scenario would best pair with hot, brooklyn style pizza and she'd finally settled on a bubble bath with red wine. Cheese would be slipping from the limp slice in her hand, and she'd catch it neatly with her tongue as the bubbles would slowly dissolve and she'd stay in the water... until they were gone.

Her eyes met his for a moment and she felt a jolt in her stomach- the same one she'd felt when his hand had touched her before, and the rush of warmth had gone through her so quickly she'd wondered if she was doing the right thing. She might have dreamt about him if she'd had the chance, imagined the feeling of his hands in other places doing things she hadn't felt in so long she could have forgotten how.

“Shouldn't you be bringing that back to Skye?” May gestured to the other box, glanced pointedly at the watch on her wrist. “I'm sure she's waiting for you.”  
“She's all right- didn't expect me back for a while. She lost her father a year ago- worries about me sometimes, but she's usually okay for a few hours.”

“You're not her father?”

“No. Her father was involved in Doctors Without Borders. Died a few years ago, saving some refugees in Bahrain. Skye and I found each other...seems to be a good fit.” His face was sad for a moment and May felt the sting in her own eyes, remembering loss of a different kind. When Lance had left her he'd gone without a word, a note propped up against her sharpshooter award on the mantle that told her he couldn't be married to a woman who didn't believe in the same things he did. She'd discovered that he'd become involved with mercenary types, fallen in love with a woman whose ideals were similar to his own, and while she'd known she was better off for it...the first months with no one beside her in bed had been more difficult than she cared to remember.

“Look, Coulson- it's been great, but I'm going to go inside now and...you're going to go home.” It was time, she thought, to put an end to the situation and send him away before she started to feel something she didn't want to. A breeze kicked up and carried with it the scent of pepperoni and onion, heady and aromatic as it drifted past her nose. She wanted to send him home, wanted to look in his eyes and not see her own reflection nearly begging her to make him stay. But he had a responsibility and she had a date with pizza and a bathtub- and while part of her wanted to have him in bed while she nipped melted cheese off of his skin...the tiny voice in her head whispered no.

It wasn't the better part of her that won out, as his fingers reached for her wrist to curve around it, skin soft and warm against hers. Try as she might she couldn't push the memory out of her mind, where his hands had been and where she wanted them to be...and she started to wonder if his talents were as honed as Maria suggested.

“Skye's all right,” He assured her, and his free hand reached for the stack of boxes, bag still balanced easily on top. “Some pizza, some beer- come on, Detective. I promise, I won't bite.”

“Fine.” _Was it,_ she thought _, or am I just trying to justify what I feel like I need in the moment_? She could imagine hot cheese searing the roof of her mouth, and the cold beer washing down spicy pepperoni. She wondered if he liked onions, thought about the scent of them on her breath and his, and toyed with the notion of picking them off before seizing the slice with her teeth. Before seizing _him_ with her teeth. “Come on up. But I'm warning you- any expectations you have need to be left at the door. I'm a New York City Detective- I don't exactly have time to pick up every day.”

“What you're saying is that you leave plates and cups lying around. Skye isn't your average young woman, Detective May, but she _is_ twenty-three. Any expectations I had of cleanliness died the moment she reached adulthood.” In her minds eye May could see the gyro she'd forgotten to throw away, sitting on the coffee table with a pack of gum and several empty bottles of beer. She thought she'd remembered to toss the Chinese from last week, but couldn't remember if she'd ever thrown out the moldy banana sitting in the basket on the table. Didn't think he'd care about the cup of day old coffee in the bedroom- wondered if they'd make it there before they dug into the pizza, or if the cheese would congeal on the pie before they made it out again. “Lead the way.”

Her fingers shook as she worked the key into the lock, and behind her she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck.

“I'm almost there- hold on a sec, I can't get the key in.”

“You're not there _yet_ ,” He whispered, and she felt the shiver work its way down her spine as the key slid smoothly into the lock on the third attempt. “But you will be. And don't worry- I only had them put onions on _half_ of the pizza.”


End file.
